


Taking Back My Life

by RainySunday



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, Self-Discovery, diverges from there, picks up where 1x05 leaves off, tags may be added later as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySunday/pseuds/RainySunday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What does it matter what the heart wants? I am a queen – I am not afforded the privilege of following my heart."</p><p>Distraught and angry at Francis' involvement with Olivia, Mary takes comfort in the only person who values her for the woman she truly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regrets

“Regret is an awful feeling, and though I have sent my boat off, I am still filled with it.”

 

Mary stood with her ladies on the lake’s edge, watching the small white vessel carry away her little paper out into the water. She hadn’t lied. Regret for the obvious – losing her temper with Francis, and also for getting drunk and kissing Francis’ brother. But she was also regretful for less specific reasons – regret that she had ever lived under the childish illusion that her and Francis could work. If this was how he treated her, if this was the “love” he professed to have for her, she didn’t want it.

 

Mary turned, and watched Francis help Olivia up the slope and away from the water’s edge. His hand remained on her waist long past when it was needed. Mary looked away, a horrible mixture of anger, frustration and sorrow rising inside her.

 

Lola observed her with sympathy. “Come, Mary. It does no good to stand here and watch them.” She reached out and took her arm, then addressed Kenna and Aylee. “Let us return to the tents, and see if we can’t glean some enjoyment out of the festivities.”

 

Mary allowed herself to be led away, but her mind still dwelt on everything that had gone wrong today.

 

 

*********************************************************** 

 

 

The afternoon had moved by at an achingly slow pace, giving way to evening just as slowly. Though there was entertainment in the form of jugglers, musicians, dancers, and fortune tellers, as well as distractions galore in company and food, Mary had far too much time left to dwell on the day’s earlier events. Her mind slid back to what Bash had said to her.

 

_“It’s unfathomable. If Francis has you, why would he ever look elsewhere?”_

 

Mary had had a vague inkling of Sebastian’s affection for her before today, but had no grasp of how deep it had gone. The memory of the kiss caused her to flush. Trouble was, each time her mind went back to it, the regret grew less and less, replaced by the wonderful feeling of finally having done something that she alone had wanted to do. If Mary was being fully honest, Bash stirred something inside her. She wasn’t sure quite what it was, but part of the reason fell somewhere along the lines of Bash admiring her for who she was – he never expected anything from her. He was the only person outside of her ladies in waiting with whom she could truly express her opinions – and just be herself.  She had felt fondness for him since her first days at court when he had reached out with his friendship. Sometimes, when she wasn’t censoring herself, there were flickers of something more. Him being incorrigibly honest and open allowed this. His looks certainly didn’t hurt either.

 

Catherine caught her attention rather abruptly.

 

“Enjoying the festivities my dear? You look a bit drained. Pale, even.” Her words may have come across as concerned, but her tone was anything but. Mary was certain that the other queen was fully aware just how badly her day was going.

 

“I am fine, thank you. The festival is very nice.” She answered cooly.

 

“I noticed Olivia was wearing a dress of yours. It is generous of you to be so understanding, given your current positions.” Catherine seemed to be trying to get a rise out of Mary. After being snuck up on regarding Kenna’s current activities in an earlier conversation, Mary wasn’t letting her get the drop on her again.

 

“I can only wear one dress at a time. It seemed the least I could do after all she has been through.”

 

Catherine smiled manipulatively. “One can only praise you on trying to have a cordial relationship with her. Heaven knows I struggled on that front with Dianne.”

 

Mary forced herself to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

 

“Oh, and dear? Don’t be too hard on Francis. He’s only a man. You know their attentions don’t stay too long. I am aware you were close as children, but you can’t expect things to stay the same forever. He _is_ set to be king, you know. And of course, you’ll need to provide a unified front – regardless of your feelings for him. I congratulate you on working to that end already.”

 

“Catherine, I really don’t…”

 

Catherine cut her off by leaning in a bit closer. “And between you and me, you might want to work on that opinionated streak of yours. It doesn’t bode well, and will only cause friction between yourself and my son.” Catherine then pulled back, smiled triumphantly, and sauntered away, head held high.

 

Mary couldn’t even find it in herself to be surprised. She was half convinced Catherine didn’t eat real food, but subsisted entirely on the satisfaction of causing others pain. It still stung though, as her words had truth. Mary could choose to fight with Francis on the matter of Olivia, or resign herself to it. Either way, it was Francis alone who decided how things turned out. Mary had no power.

 

She almost laughed to herself. As if anything was new in that regard. She never had a say in matters that affected her – her engagement, her political stance, her religion, her friends, her companions. All were carefully selected and groomed and chosen for her by her superiors, mostly men. Mary felt suffocated. Would her life never be her own?

 

Luck would have it that the aforementioned couple would stride into view right then. Francis had his arm linked with Olivia, attentively gazing down at her as she laughed coyly at something he had just said. Francis then stopped, and switched to holding her hand, using the other to reach up and wipe what was possibly icing away from her mouth.

 

The gaze they shared was too much. Mary could not keep doing this to herself. Today had been absolute torture, and she needed a break from it. Aiming to retreat to her chambers, Mary walked as fast as she could away from the grouping of tents, and back towards the castle.

 

 

*******************************************************************

 

 

Bash was just finishing up with some business involving a dispute between two of the mercenaries here for the fair, and was now heading back down to the lawn to rejoin the festivities. As he rounded a high stone wall leading out to the gardens, he almost collided with Mary in the dark. His mind jumped firstly to their meeting earlier that day, and secondly to the absolute state she seemed to be in currently. He could practically feel the waves of anger radiating off her.

 

“Mary, are you alright?” His voice displayed genuine concern.

 

“If alright implies having to watch your brother cavort around with Olivia in public, and having Catherine goad me about it all day, then yes, I am _just_ fine Bash.” Mary practically spat every word. “The absolute definition of alright, that’s my life. Sitting back and watching everything happen, no power to change it.”

 

Bash felt terribly for her. “Is there anything I can do? I really should speak with Francis….”

 

“ _Damn_ Francis! I am sick to death of waiting around for people to find value in me! I am tired of being a pair of gloves placed in a drawer and forgotten until I am of use to them!” Mary’s voice rose with each argument, her frustration leading her to the point that Bash wouldn’t have been surprised if she had started to cry. Then again, this was Mary – this woman could level a room with a glance alone.

 

Wanting to console her, and also mildly concerned that she would be overheard at the volume she was currently at, Bash reached forward to gently hold her shoulder. “It is unjust they way you are treated, and I am sorry. This castle must be full of fools – for only a fool could look at you and not see how special you are, how intelligent and how levelheaded your insight is.”

 

“I am afraid it is only you who thinks that way.” Mary spoke bitterly. “Even my own ladies encourage me to accept my fate, thinking I will be happier for it.”

 

“Then they are fools also.”

 

Mary’s gaze shifted all over his face, as if sizing him up. Perhaps he had gone too far – her ladies were her oldest friends. Bash was nearly prepared for a verbal assault defending them when Mary took him entirely off guard by launching forward to capture his mouth in her own for the second time that day. This time, however, the timidity was gone. Bash felt his head swim, unable to think or barely breathe. Mary was completely sober now. She tasted different, sweeter. But her mouth – it was fury and determination, and her hand found the back of his neck very quickly. When they stopped for breath, her eyes caught his own, and were flashing with steel. She reached down and took his arm.

 

“Come with me.”

 

 

********************************************************

 

 

They had barely made it to the second floor before the tension bouncing between them could not be contained any longer. Bash was determined not to push this anywhere Mary didn’t want to go, but didn’t have to wait long when, just after they passed the entrance to one of the large halls, she turned abruptly on her heel, and drew him towards her. There was a slight skittering of limbs as mouth found mouth and grasp danced from waist to head to back, and neither seemed quite sure where to put their hands. Mary pulled them into a small alcove containing a few unlit candelabras and a window, then proceeded to tug Bash’s body into her own.

 

Bash was not complaining.

 

Earlier today he had gotten to finally kiss her. Now he was being handed the moon. Mary’s skirts rustled between them, and Bash reached to brush away the hair that had fallen into her face. They did not speak.

 

The harried kisses found a sort of rhythm; Mary and Bash found themselves leaning against the wall for support. She used her position to push back into Bash – blood rushing through her at the sheer intimacy of the moment. His arms caressed all over her, catching the folds of her dress on more than one occasion, fixated by the sensation of the material.

 

Bash slid up her skirt slightly with one hand, the other holding one of her arms over her head. Gently, he crushed her up against the wall, breathing heavily against her neck. When Mary let out a soft moan, he dropped her arm, released her dress, and covered her mouth- brief panic showing in his eyes. They may be alone, but they must stay quiet. Bash let his heart pound audibly for a moment before resuming courage to continue. Silently now, they gazed at each other; chests heaving, senses on fire.

 

The dark hallway they had ended up in was deserted. Nearly everyone else is outside watching the fireworks over the lake before attending the feast that would conclude the harvest festival. Mary could hear them – and hear the people cheering as they enjoyed themselves. She wondered if Francis was down on the lawn, hand in hand with Olivia, too busy gazing at each other to enjoy the display. Or perhaps they too had snuck off to some dark corner of the castle, just as she and Bash had done.

 

Bash called Mary back to the present. “You look a million miles away. Perhaps we should go downstairs, rejoin the others?” He rubbed a tender hand down her cheek.

 

The thought of having to stand there and watch Francis watching Olivia twisted a knife in her gut. What did she want? To be respected, certainly. And maybe the logic was flawed, but the way Sebastian looked at her – she felt like a woman. His words had truth- _if Francis loved her, why was he looking elsewhere?_ Just for once, she wanted to be first and foremost to someone. Bash could give her that.

 

“No. I want this.” Mary may have spoken slightly too emphatically, but she’d made up her mind. Her gaze flicked aggressively back to Bash, dragging him in closer to her with both arms and a strength she didn’t know she had. Their teeth knocked together when their mouths joined. It stung, but neither flinched. She pulled her hand into his hair, and moved her lips against his with urgency. Bash responded with equal heat. His hands tugged at her waist, pulling her closer to the point it seemed that they might be in danger of melting together. This kiss was a far cry from the chaste thing they had shared at the lake’s edge earlier that day.

 

While he ran his hands all along Mary’s tiny waist, Bash was trying to quiet the part of his mind that had finally woken and was now screaming at him. _This is a terrible idea, Bash. She only wants you to numb her loneliness, Bash. She could never love you. Bash. Mary only wants revenge on Francis, Bash._ To turn off his brain, he threw his entire attention into memorizing all the details of the woman he held. How soft her hair was. The taste of her kiss, the shape her mouth made when he ran his hands over that specific spot on the back of her neck. _God, how he wanted her_. Mary had been occupying much of his thoughts for the last few weeks – hell, last few months. She was like tinder, and he was kindling – he had been set ablaze, and Bash wasn’t even sure he wanted to put his feelings out. Especially now that Mary herself was fanning the flames.

 

Mary tipped her face invitingly, Bash accepting without question by pressing a series of gentle, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. _Logic, what was logic_? Her bosom rose and fell with each breath, Mary’s eyes having closed as her head was thrown back and open to his touch. Still, even with his blood pounding and all his senses heightened with the nearness of Mary’s soft skin, that nagging part of his mind refused to be silenced.

 

“Mary, why did you seek me out?” Bash withdrew his mouth to a more conversational distance from her face, though his hands still remained on her back and waist, and their hips were pressed together.

 

It took a few more heavy breaths for Mary to open her eyes, and when she had, she looked slightly annoyed that Bash had interrupted their activities. “Can’t I make a decision for myself?”

 

“Of course you can. I don’t contest that. I just want to know what caused you to change your opinions so rapidly from this afternoon. I seem to recall that the first thing you expressed after we kissed was your extreme regret at our actions.”

 

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” She leaned in again to capture his mouth, but Bash pulled back, not satisfied with her answer.

 

“Mary.” He released his grip on her slightly, his gaze finishing the question that he hadn’t fully verbalized.

 

As the implications of his pause sunk in, Mary became riled again. “I was slightly drunk, fine. That may have led me into my rash actions. People do things under the sway of wine that they wouldn’t do sober. It doesn’t mean they don’t mean them.”

 

“Then which part did you mean? The part where you kissed me, or the part where you admitted it was a mistake?” Bash’s eyebrows began to furrow.

 

Exasperated, and still riled from their closeness, Mary wasn’t in the mood to talk. “What does it matter? It could have been both. And right now, I want to continue where we left off.” Her eyes danced angrily, and this time her attempt to kiss him was successful. She had grasped the front of his jacket, pulling him violently in again to her mouth, her other hand roped around his neck. With a few backwards steps, she had them both leaning against the windowsill.

 

Bash was still immensely conflicted about this, but deep down only human. A low groan escaped his throat, as he once again gave in and became an active and enthusiastic participant in their little tryst. Mary was absolutely intoxicating. She seemed to currently be exploring his face with her mouth, and his back with her hands. _Fine, if this is what she wants._ Bash quickly picked her up around her waist and deposited her on the window ledge, using the newfound space and height difference to lean down and return a little of the urgency and passion Mary had been pushing for this entire time.

 

Hooking her leg around his waist, Mary fully immersed herself in the heady sensations Bash was evoking in her. The slight scratch of his stubble on her neck was so different than Francis’ clean face. She found the difference agreeable. As Bash ran his hand possessively up and down her thigh, it occurred to Mary that she had never really done anything like this before – save a few chaste kisses with her fiancé. _No. Not thinking about Francis. This is about me. This is about Bash._ Mary feigned boldness at that moment, and moved to release Bash’s shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. It seemed unfair that Bash had access to so much of her skin when she had access to so little of his.

 

At the touch of her skin to his stomach, the façade suddenly broke. Bash jumped back as if burned. All his doubts rushed back to him like a punch to the gut.

 

“Mary – I can’t do this to you. I want you, I really do. But the way you’re looking at me, you want a distraction. As much as I would gladly take whatever you place at my feet, I want you to take me for myself.”

 

“Bash…” Mary’s eyes pleaded with him.

 

“And I know that you can’t do that. It angers me that you have no choice in who you will marry. Francis will marry you, you will give him heirs, and he will break your heart. I wish I could change it, but I don’t know how.”

 

Mary eyed him with indignation. “If you are so lamenting of my lack of choice, why make decisions for me? If I say I want this, and you do too, take me at my word. Let me have my say.”

 

Bash sighed painfully. “Because you are a queen. A beautiful, fiery queen, and I am a bastard. Because I cannot be the husband you need, and because if anyone saw us together, questioned that you were no longer a virgin, you would be ruined.”

 

“Then let me be ruined.” Mary’s eyes shot a challenge.

 

“You don’t mean that.” Bash knew he risked coming across as condescending, but he cared too much about Mary to allow his rash impulses to upend her entire life. He softened his gaze, and walked back to her. The desire to stroke her face rose, but he pushed it down. It would just make it more difficult to hold his ground. As much as his entire body and soul longed to throw caution to the wind, he would regret it later.

 

“Please Mary. I know my brother is being thoughtless and cruel, but please don’t throw away your life because of his childish actions.”

 

“It is not just _his_ actions! He is just one instance in the long line of examples that proves women have no control over their lives, queen or not.”

 

“It is unfair, I agree. I couldn’t ever hope to fully understand how difficult it is. Mary, I will always be there for you, I will always support you. If it would do any good, I would chase my little brother down and give him a thrashing for treating you as he does. But Mary, as much as I care for you, I cannot be this for you. I cannot be your distraction.” At that, Bash gathered his last remaining scrap of resolve, and walked away.

 

“Bash!” Mary whisper-shouted down the corridor after him, sliding off the windowsill to her feet. When he didn’t turn, she raised her voice. “Bash!”

 

She stood silently after that, watching him walk away; his back turned pretending he hadn’t heard her.

 

 

***************************************************


	2. Pandora's Box

************    ~3 days later~    ************

 

Mary sat at the table, stirring her tea absent mindedly, thoughts dancing round and round to the point she couldn’t even decipher one from the other anymore. Lola’s voice penetrated the fog just enough for Mary to realize that she was being asked a question.

 

“Hmm?” The queen cast her eyes up towards her friend seated across from her, but her gaze was still glassy with distractedness.

 

“I was asking if you were planning on joining me for a ride today.” Lola sighed, but looked concerned. “Are you alright? You haven’t been yourself since the fair.”

 

Mary mustered enough concentration to answer. “Oh? Um, yes. Yes, of course.” She threw in a fake smile for good measure. “I’m just fine. Riding sounds lovely – of course I’ll join you. Who is going?”

 

“Just you and I, if that is alright. I had asked Greer, but she has a lunch date with some duke or other. Aylee is not fond of riding, and of course Kenna is _busy_.”

 

Mary rolled her eyes. _Yes, of course. Busy. With her lover, the king._ She cringed internally. What Kenna saw in him, she couldn’t understand. For her friend’s own well being, she hoped that this would end soon.

 

“Lola, I believe some fresh air is _just_ what I need.” Mary smiled genuinely over to the neighboring brunette. “Shall we leave after breakfast?”

 

Lola smiled in response. “That sounds perfect.”

 

 

 ***********************************************

  

 

The crisp air caused Mary’s hair to twist and curl around her shoulders, tickling her cheeks in the process before dancing out behind her as the girls rode leisurely along the cliff. The freedom that her untamed locks alone afforded her made Mary’s spirits lift considerably. For just this moment, she was free from Francis, free from Olivia, free from the weight of her betrothal and her current crown.

 

_Free from Bash?_

Yes, perhaps from him too.

 

Her mind still dwelt on him far too often for comfort. Perhaps she had been out of line that day in the corridor – and it had been for the best that he had walked away. She should be grateful. However, what scared Mary most was the second option. Perhaps she hadn’t been out of line. That taking her life in her hands, even in such a nonspecific way, had exhilarated her. That she craved it, wanted more. Not necessarily in a physical sense, but the whole idea in being her own driving force, her own compass. Now _that_ was a hard notion to just brush away.

 

Lola turned then, and shot Mary a sparkling grin before calling back to her.

 

“Race you to the woods edge!”

 

Mary had barely processed her challenge before Lola shot off in a whirlwind of red skirts and pale skin, her grey mount kicking up dirt and grass as it flew across the ground.

 

Not to be outdone and rather looking forward to the chase, Mary spurred her own mare into action, tearing off after her friend in her own cloud of torn up soil.

 

The harsh air rolling up from the ocean working together with the speed of her horse caused Mary’s skirt to billow out like sails, dark blue fabric tugging and pulling and twisting. She reveled in the salty taste the wind provided. Her animal moved in pulls and bunching of hot muscle, quivering flanks felt through her dress. Its heavy breath, broken by the occasional snort as the horse attempted to pull away faster, punctured the quiet sea-view landscape like rough stucco. Mary let out the reigns further, giving the horse its head, and allowing them to make gains on their rival. The laughter of both girls danced across the field, swept up on the breeze.

 

Lola was still a stone’s throw ahead when the noisy duo began the small descent towards the tree line. Mary had given up on pulling abreast of Lola and was almost ready to pull in her horse again, when her mount caught itself in a rabbit hole. It stumbled slightly before freeing its foreleg, but the sudden change in momentum was enough to toss Mary unceremoniously out of the saddle.

 

She landed flat on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs, and glancing her knee off a small rock as she went down.

 

The small thud went unnoticed by Lola, who didn’t turn until she had reached the tree line and was ready to claim her victory from the race. Upon seeing Mary’s horse slowly lolloping towards her with no Mary, her face very quickly went from jubilation to deep concern.

 

“Mary?” Lola called out somewhat frantically to the empty field.

 

Her heart steadied when the young queen called back.

 

“I’m over here!” Mary staggered into view, rising from the long grass, looking slightly disheveled and unsteady on her feet.

 

Lola quickly dismounted from her horse, and ran towards her friend.

 

“What on earth have you done? One minute you’re right behind me, the next rolling in the grass!” Lola’s joking subsided slightly when she drew closer to Mary, however, as she realized that Mary was limping slightly.

 

“Are you hurt?”

 

“Not overly. It was a soft landing, save the rock I hit my knee on.” Seeing the concern rise again in her friend’s eyes, she added: “But I am certain nothing is broken! Just bruised.”

 

Lola had finally reached the place Mary currently stood, and grasped her hands in her own.

 

“You are certain?” The earnest look of care in Lola’s eyes warmed Mary.

 

“Yes, I am certain. I just need to walk for a little, just to shake out the stiffness.”

 

Lola gazed over her shoulder towards where she had just come from. “I’m not sure we have much choice in the matter… your horse seems to have continued the race without us.”

 

Mary glanced back to the forest and saw that her companion told the truth. Lola’s horse stood grazing near the base of the incline, but her own mount was nowhere to be seen.

 

_It’s a long walk back to the castle from here._

“Well, we did say we wished for some fresh air. Best get started.” Mary, pragmatic as always, lifted her skirts and began her descent towards the trees, and the road that ran through them.

 

“What, walk back from here? Are you crazy? Please tell me you didn’t hit your head when you fell.”

 

Mary laughed, and continued on her current trajectory. “No, just my knee. Still, there’s not much good in sitting here waiting for my horse to show up – it’s the middle of the day, surely we will come across a guard or someone else we know when we make it back to the King’s Road.”

 

Lola had no choice but to sigh and follow, stopping briefly to collect her own mount when they reached the bottom of the hill.

 

 

*************************************************** 

 

 

After a good hour of walking, the girls had yet to come across a single soul traveling along the road. Mary had been trying for the last forty-five minutes, without success, to get Lola to ride for assistance.

 

“Lola, this is ludicrous. I will be fine on my own – please. Ride ahead and see if you can flag down a guard. I fear I won’t be able to walk much further before this knee gives out entirely.”

 

“I’m not leaving you alone on the road! If anything were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself. Please, try again to get on my horse. We can ride back together.”

 

“Lola, I can’t. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it is too painful to raise myself into the stirrups. I need a boost.” Mary wrinkled her nose, before smiling.  “Or a carriage.”

 

“Mary…”

 

“ _Please._ People will miss us if we aren’t back by lunch, and I don’t want to incite that kind of worry. Just ride along the road a bit, I’m sure you will come across someone presently.”

 

The two exchanged an unspoken conversation of glances, Lola looking concerned and unimpressed with the plan, Mary doing her best to pull rank and look authoritative. Mary won out.

 

“Fine. But if I don’t come across anyone in a short ride, I’m coming straight back.”

 

Mary rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be fine. I’ll wait right here, in this very spot.” Mary turned and perched herself on a fallen tree, crossing her ankles, and sitting with such straight posture she could have been conducting a court meeting. Lola giggled.

 

“Well, I will leave you to preside over your current….. domain. But I’m coming back, right away, with someone who can help.”

 

Mary smiled, and waved Lola off as she mounted her horse and took off at a slow trot, glancing over her shoulder at the friend she was leaving behind.

 

 

 **************************************************

 

  

Bash picked through the underbrush slowly, keeping his crossbow handy as morning light streamed in through the canopy. A third body had been taken down from where it hung in the woods this morning, a third innocent life slaughtered and hung out for sacrifice by this confusing and bloodthirsty pagan cult.

 

He had thrown himself into this hunt for the cause of this recent brutality more readily since the events of the festival as a method of distraction, not that he would ever admit to it if asked.

 

_Skin warm and soft beneath his mouth, little puffs of air coming in gasps from bitten lips._

Bash groaned, and tried to pull his thoughts back to the task at hand. His mind kept drifting back to that day, to the game-changing events of their encounters. Some part of Mary, however small and buried, trusted him.

 

_Yes, trusted you enough to use you as batting practice for her anger and confusion toward Francis._

Not all her words had been false, right? Despite being confused, perhaps tipsy, and hurt by his brother’s actions, Mary had never given him any reason to believe that she was manipulative with her words. If he could believe them, that meant she trusted him. Maybe even cared for him.

 

_Don’t get your hopes up. It will only end in misery._

Despite all his internal dissent, Bash tucked away a small grain of hope.

 

The light grew brighter ahead of him, signaling the nearness of the King’s Road. Initial sweep of the woods complete, Bash figured he would loop around via the road and cross back through the woods in a North-South direction next.

 

 

***************************************************************** 

 

 

After bidding Lola farewell with a smile and watching her ride away, Mary dropped her façade now that she was truly alone. Breathing deeply hurt, and turning too quickly to the left sent shooting pains up into her shoulder. Moving her head in anything other than the smoothest of manners caused her vision to swim. All this on top of a knee that was throbbing with nausea inducing intensity.

 

She hoped her friend would return soon.

 

A crunching of leaves coming from behind her, and not from the road, caused her heart to leap into her throat. Mary swung around from her perch, facing the noise, and hoping beyond hope that she was just overreacting to some small or medium sized forest animal.

 

As the brush parted, a much larger figure than Mary had been expecting emerged. It was a man, atop a large brown gelding.

 

Willing her eyes to focus properly, Mary studied the man’s features before recognition sunk in. “Bash?”

 

The man stopped abruptly.

 

“Mary?” His voice carried his surprise at her presence.

 

Bash moved into action again, dismounting from his horse in one fluid movement. “What are you doing out here?” He looked around briefly, and down the road in both directions. He sobered. “Please tell me you aren’t alone.”

 

“I lost my horse when out riding with Lola. She has merely gone to fetch a replacement.” Mary kept her voice much steadier than she felt, in an attempt not to betray the burgeoning headache taking root inside her skull.

 

“And why in the hell didn’t you go with her? A horse can carry two…..” Something clicked.

 

“Mary, answer me honestly. Were you thrown? Are you hurt?” Bash was quickly by her side, tenderness in his eyes and concern in his voice. He crouched down in front of Mary, and placed a hand on her arm.

 

“I’m fine, honestly. Just stiff.” Mary turned her eyes to her lap when she spoke.

 

Bash felt very skeptical about that, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Ok. Then let me give you a ride back to court – save the trouble of Lola coming all the way back here with a horse for you.”

 

_I’m screwed. If he sees me try, and fail, to pull myself up onto that horse, he’s going to see that I’m lying._

“It’s honestly ok, Bash. You look like you’re in the middle of something. Lola should be right back, it’s been a while since she went for the horse.”

 

Bash furrowed his brows at her. “Are you seriously suggesting I leave you here _alone_? It’s not happening Mary.” Bash stood and went to retrieve his horse. “C’mon, it won’t take us long to get back to court – and it will save Lola the trouble.”

 

Bash led the large gelding, taller than her own mare by far, out of the brush and onto the dirt road. Mary coaxed herself to standing, steadying herself against a tree when Bash had his head turned to let her head equilibrate.

 

He glanced at her after coming to a halt, holding the reigns of the horse. With as much bravado as she could muster, she approached the tethered animal, then rounded to the left side.

 

“Mary, I thought you were right handed?” Bash looked confused.

 

“Yes, well, I prefer to mount horses from the left.” Pain shot up her right leg with each step, her knee having become rather swollen during the time she had spent resting on the log. She forced herself to walk with a steady gait, and grasped the saddle, moving to put her left leg into the stirrup. However, in her brilliant scheme of evading Bash’s notice, Mary had forgotten that, in order to place her left leg in the stirrup, it would require her to stand entirely on her right while she lifted her foot. She grimaced, and was unable to hold back a noise of severe discomfort as she fell forward into the body of the horse.

 

Bash immediately was next to her, hands around her waist firmly so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. This action, though meant with good intent, served only to punctuate how sore her ribs were, and she gasped a second time, this time falling into Bash. He lowered his grip, and turned is gazed to her face, fear coursing over his own.

 

“You’re not fine.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“My horse threw me. I thought I would be ok, but the stiffness of it has set in. I merely need to get home and take a good long bath, then put my feet up. It’s really nothing serious.”

 

“Are you sure you haven’t broken anything? Where does it hurt?” Bash thanked himself that his hands were occupied holding her up, for the desire to stroke her face almost knocked him flat with its intensity.

 

Mary somehow must have caught a portion of that thought, for she pulled back from his embrace to support herself once again. Her heartbeat rose.

 

“I landed on my back, but it is my knee that is causing me the most grief. I knocked it against a stone when I landed, and the pain has only been increasing since.” Her shoulders slumped, and Mary resigned herself to the situation. There was no point pretending anymore – she felt miserable.

 

Bash was on his knees in front of her before Mary could think. The action caused something akin to longing to rise up inside her, although she couldn’t quite place why.

 

“May I have a look?” He glanced up at her, making it entirely clear that he would only proceed if she consented to him doing so.

 

Mary merely nodded.

 

His hands lifted her skirt slowly, and only to the height absolutely required to examine her injury. His fingers gingerly pressed her leg, taking the utmost care to not inflict more discomfort than she already felt. The knee was swollen on one side, and warm to his touch. A magnificent bruise was already painted all along her upper calf up to the joint, boasting rich tones of purple, blue and black. However, though he was no doctor, Bash could not deduce anything severely out of order, minus the blunt trauma that the encounter with the rock had caused on her skin. Worry abated, Bash suddenly became aware of his close proximity to Mary. He ghosted his finger delicately over her leg, in a few soothing circles, then dropped his hand to her boot before lowering her dress once again.

 

Bash rose slowly, far too aware of his breathing.

 

Mary was looking at him with an unreadable expression. Looking for an out, _any_ distraction from whatever this tension was, Bash took a step back, and threw on his best charming smile before busying himself with a buckle on the horse’s saddle.

 

“Prognosis looks alright. Obviously have Nostradamus look at it, but give it some rest, and it should heal up pretty quickly.”

 

Mary stepped forward, and tugged on his arm. His gaze shot around to her with such speed it caught Mary off guard. She cleared her throat.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He grinned again, this time less of a flashbulb smile, more actual genuine Bash. He placed his hand briefly on top of her own, then pulled it away again.

 

Mary felt bereft at the lack of contact.

 

“Okay. Now that we know I’m not going to injure you further, it’s time to get you back to court.” Bash turned his attention fully back to business mode. He could not afford to let his mind follow the path it wanted at this very moment. “Come here, and I’ll boost you up. We can ride together.”

 

“I’m not sure that….”Mary’s uncertainty, or whatever new protest she had fabricated was lost entirely when Bash gently picked her up and slid her onto the horse in a sidesaddle fashion, her injured leg to the outside. He swung himself up behind her, placing one arm gently around her waist, and using his free hand for the reigns.

 

“Now. We’d best get back to court.”

 

 

 *********************************************************

  

 

Lola burst back into the castle at a speed she wasn’t really comfortable with, but there was no way she was returning to Mary without proper help. After seeing her staunch refusal to try getting on her horse, Lola knew Mary was more hurt than she was letting on.

 

She dismounted her horse then gazed around the court for a familiar face.

 

Francis stood about ten feet away talking with a guard.

 

Perfect. Well, sort of.

 

_It will be a mite awkward, but this isn’t really the time to be picky. Besides, it might bring him to his senses, get him to see how much he cares about Mary and convince him to stop treating her so horribly._

_Well, one could hope._

“Francis!” She called over to him, dragging the horse with her as she approached him.

 

“Excuse me, Lord Cavallier.” The prince turned his attention from the guard, who nodded ascent to the interruption, to the approaching woman. “Lola, what can I help you with?”

 

“I’m sorry Francis, not to alarm you, but Mary was thrown from her horse when we went out riding this morning. Her horse bolted, and she’s bruised herself up quite badly. I didn’t want to leave her, but she insisted I come fetch someone to help.”

 

Francis turned in concern to the guard. “Send word to Nostradamus that Queen Mary has been injured, and that we will be bringing her to him as soon as we return. We will be going to the stables immediately, please join us when you are through.”

 

“Yes, your grace.” The guard nodded, and moved quickly towards the castle entrance.

 

Francis turned again to Lola, is voice low and urgent. “How badly is she injured? Where is she?”

 

“Please don’t be upset, you know how she is. She insisted I go.”

 

“Lola, I do not fault you for coming to get help.  Please speak freely, I will not be angry.”

 

She swallowed, then launched into a description of what had happened, and how far down the road Mary had stopped to rest.

 

Francis brow lowered. “The sooner we get to her, the better. She may be waiting on the king’s road, but to be alone without a guard… come. I need to fetch a horse for myself.”

 

 

********************************************************** 

 

 

They were nearing the court gates now, having taken their time by traveling at only walking pace. Bash could see the castle rising up ahead of them.

 

With a head of sweet smelling hair nestled in front of his face, Bash was currently having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. Truth be told, he had been repressing his feelings for this small brunette up until a couple days ago. Those brief minutes by the lake, and again in the dark corridor had unlocked Pandora’s box. There was no way he was getting all those feelings locked away again.

 

He could feel Mary flinch every so often when the horse shifted too quickly. Bash had tried to keep the horse as steady as possible, but one stumble a few miles back had caused her to lurch and grasp onto the hand he had encircling her waist. She hadn’t let go.

 

Rounding the last bend in the road, Bash and Mary saw three figures riding out from the castle gate. As they approached, the forms of Lola, Francis, and a guard solidified into view, the first two looking extremely relieved at finding Mary safe and returned to court.

 

Mary dropped Bash’s hand as the party approached.

 

Francis horse came skittering up quite close to Bash’s own in short order. However, instead of relief remaining on his face, Francis gaze had morphed to anger.

 

“What were you thinking Mary, out riding without a chaperone or guard? Lola tells me you were out along the ridge road – do you understand how dangerous it is to be that far from court without protection? Anything could have happened!” Francis lowered his voice. “And it appears something did happen.” Poison in his tone, he was set to continue, when Bash interjected.

 

“Seeing as you are acting as your usual childish, arrogant, unhelpful self, how about you stop yelling at Mary and go do some actual good. Has Nostradamus been summoned?” Bashes’ eyes flashed cold fire.

 

“Bash….” Mary whispered a plea for him to keep hold of his temper.

 

Francis held his head high, refusing to be chastised by his bastard brother. “He has been notified. Lola came to fetch help, but it seems I was not needed.” Francis turned back to Lola. “I assume you can take her up to Nostradamus?”

 

Lola managed to get something like “uhhh…” out before Francis interjected again.

 

“Good. Well, considering that is sorted, I have actual important matters to deal with.” He turned his horse abruptly, wordlessly signaling the guard to follow, leaving the remaining three standing in the road, stunned silent by Francis’ outburst.

 

Lola broke it first. “I don’t understand. He seemed genuinely worried for you when I initially came to find help…”

 

“Don’t worry, Lola. He is moody, hurtful and childish. Someone needs to seat him on his ass and teach him some manners one of these days.” Bash spurred the horse pack into movement.

 

“Well, you got the ‘ass’ part right.” Mary muttered under her breath.

 

Bash chuckled.

 

She was currently torn. All the things Bash made her feel. The care and support he had provided her, no strings attached. And all the things Francis made her feel. The way Francis had cherished her. Their self professed kindred hearts. She wracked her mind at what on earth had changed so quickly. What had made him turn so abruptly to Olivia once again.

 

_Why was he so angry with me?_

 

 

Despite the cacophony of feelings roiling inside her, Mary still loved him. The problem was, those feelings had just gotten a whole lot harder to sort out.

 

 

*******************************************


	3. Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis goes back to his chambers to sort out his roiling emotions, while Mary is barraged by visitors coming to see her in Nostradamus' room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sorry in advance for the heavy amounts of dialogue….*
> 
> Also, I'm in the middle of trying to finish up my university degree at the moment, so I apologize about the massive amounts of time between postings. As soon as April is over, I promise things will move along more quickly :)

Francis handed off his horse to the valet standing in the court. The poor young boy looked confused at his prince’s sudden foul mood, but bowed and got out of the way just the same. Throwing the doors open, Francis didn’t even acknowledge the two council members standing in the hallway before tearing away and heading for his chambers.

 

His boots pounded on the flagstone, the sound echoing down the vast corridor, reverberating off the walls and sending sparks right into his brain.

 

_Mary. Mary. Mary with Bash. Mary. Mary injured. Yelling at Mary. Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary. Why did I yell at Mary? What’s wrong with me?_

_Mary with skinny legs, a missing tooth, and strong opinions._

_“I’m sure the other tooth has come in by now. The opinions you can ignore.”_

_Mary with dark hair flowing out behind her as they ran through the corridors, Francis hot on her tail. Their small feet made barely any noise, but they more than made up for it with giggles and laughter._

_Mary, threatened, Mary leaving while they were still kids. Whisked away to convent. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. Francis had kept the hair ribbon she had accidentally dropped in his room tucked away in his pocket for days._

_Mary arriving back at court. The nerves rising up, attempting to quell them, to appear mature, indifferent. Failing miserably._

_“You were always taller than me, but now…now it suits you.”_

_Mary dancing at his sister’s wedding. Mary standing up to his mother. His father. The court._

_Mary needing help. Needing troops. His father not willing to help, and the thought of her having to leave, again. Having to leave, for good._

_The taste of her lips, salty with tears, when he claimed her mouth with his own for the first time. The sorrow, longing, all the unspoken words they both tried to convey._

_The joy of her being able to stay._

_“I would rather have hope with you than certainty anywhere else.”_

_Mary climbing trees. Mary laughing. Mary smiling. Mary outside playing with his little brother._

_Olivia arriving at court. His old flame, so dim next to Mary’s light. Still, they had a past. Olivia was known, habit._

_Mary concerned, upset, feeling displaced. His own overreaction. He hated to see her like that, and even as he had said the hurtful words, he ached to take them back. To show her that Olivia was no threat to them._

_Since she had walked into his life all those years ago, it had always been Mary._

_His Mary._

Francis had reached his room sometime during his internal reminiscing. The door was shut behind him, and he leaned against the wall, heart threatening to beat out of his chest with, what? Anxiety? Anger? Fear?

 

His head pounded with indecision.

 

_His Mary in his brother’s arms. Her lips on Bash’s lips, not two weeks after they themselves had shared their first kiss. Bash’s arms around her waist, his hands on her cheek, in her hair._

_Francis wasn’t supposed to have seen it, but he’d felt the moment like thorns pressed into his head, a spear to the gut. How long had this been going on? Mary had been so angry at Olivia’s delayed departure, and he’d almost understood. He thought it had come out of a place of love for him, concern for his affections wavering. Now he wasn’t so sure._

_And his brother. She had been in his_ brother’s _arms._

_Bash, how could you betray me this way? We are blood!_

Francis ran his hands through his hair, rage flowing through him. He kicked a chair, causing it to go skittering across the floor before colliding with the dresser. He sunk to his haunches, then leaned back against a bookshelf and slid to sitting, kicking one foot out in front of him.

 

_Mary, I can’t stand having this rift between us, but what else are you keeping from me? I thought we had agreed to be honest with one another._

_I thought we loved one another._

A knock dragged Francis out of his mental spiral, and he turned his attention to the young blonde who was currently sliding into his room through a barely opened door.

 

He ran his hand through his disheveled curls, and reluctantly drew himself to standing. She closed the door again behind her.

 

“Francis, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” There was sympathy in her voice, and Francis found himself resenting it. “The servants have been talking – are you alright?” Her eyes, always slightly wider than they should have been, flicked to the floor where he had been sitting only moments before.

 

Francis sighed. “I don’t really wish to discuss it right now.”

 

Olivia suddenly stepped forward, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Do not push me away Francis. I can see you are in pain. How could I not?” Francis moved to turn away from her, but she reached out and snagged his wrist, forcing his gaze back to her face. “You and I have known one another for _years,_ Francis. I understand you in a way no one else could. Please, let me share your burdens.”

 

She reached up and clasped his cheek in her palm, moving her thumb in soothing movements across his cheekbone.

 

Gratitude rose up in Francis for Olivia, but so did pride. He used his own hand to remove her grip on his face- gently but stern, and took a step backwards.

 

“This is not your place to offer to share my burdens. Olivia, I am engaged.”

 

“A political alliance, nothing more! Think of your heart, Francis. Do not become the kind of king who will not listen to his own desires. You will use your head to make most important decisions, make this one with your heart, or you will be disappointed and lonely.“

 

“The two are not so easily separated, Olivia. This alliance with Scotland, it is not something that can be so easily broken.”

 

“Let me get this straight. You are standing here, telling me that France is being held under Scotland’s power in the matter? That the tiny, poor in-peril country so occupied by the English, has too much _authority_ over France that the alliance cannot be broken, even by you? It really wouldn’t be that hard. France gets NOTHING from this alliance. You could walk out of it at any time!”

 

Francis chose not to respond.

 

“Look at me Francis, and tell me that you don’t love me. That you don’t desire me.”

 

From Francis’ gaze, it would seem the floor was the most interesting thing in the world right now.

 

“I did love you. Once.”

 

“And now you do not.” Her voice grew cold.

 

“I… things are different! You see everything so simple, so straightforward! Our actions have consequences. I cannot be with you, ruin your reputation even more than I already have. Every time we spent together before, every night, it was a risk! Having a child, that is not something that even the king of France can undo. It was a blessing we never had to contend with one.”

 

“So you do want me?”

 

“In all honesty I don’t know – and that isn’t fair to you.” _Or Mary._

 

“If the issue here is with Mary being in the way, then break your engagement to Mary.”

 

Francis continued to look everywhere but Olivia’s eyes.

 

“Unless you do not want to?” Olivia sounded shocked for the first time since she had come into his room.

 

“Olivia, as you have said many times. We share much history. But I cannot be a ruler who is seen to break alliances a decade in the making on a whim. If my word cannot count for something, then I will not be much of a king.”

 

“You will be a great king, one whom others wouldn’t dare push around. Honestly Francis, stand up and be a man. Take what you want!”

 

“Then stand back and let me choose!”

 

Francis suddenly became aware of how loud they had gotten.  Running hands through his hair, he tried to sort out all the trains of thought tangling and jumbling together in his head. He wrung his hands a few more times, breathed deeply, and marched towards the door.

 

“Francis, please don’t just walk away from me. Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to visit my _fiancée,_ if you don’t mind. She was thrown from her horse, and I’m afraid I made quite a fool of myself when she arrived back at the castle.”

 

Olivia scoffed. “I’m sure she’s got quite enough visitors right now without you waltzing in there right this instant.”

 

Francis swung on his heels, head spinning. _Did she know? How many others had seen Mary and Bash at the lake besides him?_

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

Olivia sauntered coyly over to him, calculating her movements before raking a hand up his shirt and lightly snagging his collar in her hand, and put on an innocent face before casting her eyes up to his own. “It means that you’ve got a lot on your mind, and bursting into Nostradamus’ room in the flurry you’re in will not do her any good. Her ladies will be there, I’m sure she is being expertly taken care of. Visit her tomorrow, when she’s had a chance to sleep.”

 

Though his mind calmed slightly at Olivia’s apparent obliviousness, Francis voice remained cold. “So kind of you to suddenly care so _much_ about Mary’s needs.”

 

“I am told that I am a very caring individual.”

 

Francis smiled. “I might re-check your sources.”

 

Olivia took his arm, and led him over to the chaise lounge. Sitting, she took his hand into her lap.

 

“Why the sudden need to go see Mary? If you were really so concerned for her well being, why not go to Nostradamus as soon as she got back?”

 

“I…”

 

“Has something happened between you two? Have there been words?”

 

Francis sighed. “The opposite, in fact. I fear she is keeping something from me. I saw her… at the party the other day…..well, it doesn’t matter. But we haven’t spoken since, and I feel terrible. I have spent the time since then angry and frustrated, and I feel like a child. I… I just wish to clear the air, to talk this out.”

 

“She has betrayed your trust? What was it Francis, tell me.”

 

“Olivia, it doesn’t concern you.”

 

“Yes, Francis, it does!  She has hurt you. You concern me. Please, tell me what happened.”

 

“Enough! It is between Mary and I, and I will deal with it as soon as she is feeling better. Now please, if you don’t mind, I have some things I need to do.”

 

Francis stood, and walked towards the door.

 

Olivia followed. When they reached the entranceway, she stepped in front, preventing him from opening it.

 

“Olivia….”

 

“Shhhhh….” She reached up and stroked his face, cupping his cheek in her hand once again. Francis closed his eyes, but did not lean in to it. When Olivia reached up to kiss his cheek, he turned away, and brushed away her hand.

 

Olivia said nothing. Neither moved, but Francis found his pounding head keeping time with Olivia’s breath, and became unsettled by the rise and fall of her breast as they stood slightly too close together. Flushing slightly and becoming irritated at the effect Olivia still had on him, Francis moved for the door handle.

 

“I would prefer to be alone.”

 

Olivia placed her hand on the door, again detaining them.

 

“You cannot live your life alone, Francis. You do not HAVE to life your life alone.” Her voice sounded somber. She reached out to him again, despite having been rebuffed already.

 

With the touch of her hand, bitterness rose inside Francis yet again. _No, he didn’t want to live his life in solitude with no one to confide in. But his choice, the person whom he wanted, apparently didn’t want him._

 

“We are all alone, Olivia. It is only an illusion that other options exist.”

 

A brief flicker of pain showed on her face, but she schooled her expression. Removing her hand once again, she smoothed her skirts and made a point of standing up straight.

 

“It pains me to see you like this, to see you so unhappy. But despite what you seem to think, you AREN’T alone. I am here. Anything you need, anything you desire. I will be here, always.”

 

When she noticed Francis wasn’t looking at her, she leaned forward one last time, and tipped his chin to her with her hand.

 

“You aren’t alone.”

 

Francis forced a smile, which Olivia reciprocated. She then removed her hand from the door, allowing Francis to pull it open. Once out in the hall, she paused and looked back at him.

 

“Please, just think about what I said.”

 

Francis nodded then closed the door, leaving him to his solitude.

 

He did not leave the room again that evening.

 

*************************************************************

 

 

Nostradamus smoothed out the covers of the cot, effectively tucking Mary in. Having finished his examination, he rose to his feet and collected up his few instruments.

 

“Well your grace, you have gotten away lucky- your injuries could have been much worse. As far as I can tell, you have earned yourself a few major bruises. There is swelling around your knee which may take a few days to go down, so keep the walking to a minimum. I suspect one rib may be cracked, but it should heal so long as you don’t antagonize it further. I have something in my stores which will help with the pain, and should allow you to get a bit of sleep.”

 

Mary smiled through her tiredness, looking relieved. “Thank you, Nostradamus. May I return to my chambers for the evening?”

 

“I would prefer if you stayed here tonight, your grace, just so I can keep an eye on you. To make sure no complications come up.”

 

“If you believe that’s best.” Mary responded graciously.

 

“I do.” Nostradamus smiled politely at her, before a knock sounded at the door. Before getting the chance to move ten feet and allow whoever was there entrance, Aylee, Lola, Kenna, and Greer came tumbling in and immediately began talking over one another.

 

“Mary!” Aylee nearly danced her way over, a small bouquet of flowers clutched in her hands.

 

“Goodness, are you alright? You look so pale! Lola, why didn’t you tell me she was so pale?” Kenna moved to Mary’s side, a look of concern pulling at her face.

 

“She wasn’t this pale when we got back to the castle…..” Lola came up next to Aylee and took her free arm.

 

Greer cut in over Lola. “Mary, how bad is it? Is anything broken?”

 

“Is there anything we can bring you? A book? Some wine?” Kenna had crouched and was clasping Mary’s hand. Mary was trying hard to stifle a giggle by this point.

 

“I thought of the flowers, but didn’t know where to get a vase…” Aylee began scanning the room for a suitable replacement.

 

“You don’t have a fever do you? Nostradamus, does she have a fever?” Greer swung around to antagonize the poor man standing uncomfortably next to the wall.

 

“Lola honestly, you should have come and gotten us right away!” Kenna leaned over her shoulder and addressed Lola again. Lola furrowed her brow.

 

“I told you, she wasn’t this pale when we first got back!”

 

“Ladies….” Nostradamus tried to interject, but was quickly drowned out.

 

“My God, we need to get you some better pillows.” Greer fluffed at the offending one.

 

“And blankets! Perhaps the satin lined duvet from your room?” Kenna smoothed at the rough wool one Mary was currently tucked under.  


Lola chimed in helpfully. “What about food? Have you eaten anything yet?”  


“Ooh, yes! What about some soup?” Aylee’s eyes lit up.

 

Kenna cut her off. “Mary doesn’t like soup – what about some fresh rolls with Alicia’s wonderful fruit preserves?”

 

“Or some tea?” Greer suggested.

 

“Mulled wine! That would be perfect.” Kenna’s eyes glinted teasingly.

 

Nostradamus piped up again. “Ladies……um…perhaps Mary would do better to have some quiet?” Mary had to raise a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing aloud, but her eyes sparkled with fondness at the antics of her friends.

 

“Perhaps I can bring you something to read!” Greer moved away from the bed to the shelf, glancing briefly at what books Nostradamus had in his study. She couldn’t see much of interest.

 

“Good idea. What was the name of that little poetry book you were leafing through last Saturday?” Lola moved to help Greer.

 

“Mary, your hair! It’s a rat’s nest! I’ll be right back with a brush to sort it out!” Aylee thrust the flowers towards Kenna, and dashed out of the room. Nostradamus sighed, and admitted defeat to himself, ducking out after her to go and retrieve more supplies.

 

Kenna fumbled with the flowers, dropping a few on the floor. “Perhaps I should look into getting something to put these in?”

 

Mary smiled at her friend, and rested her hand ontop of Kenna’s arm. “That sounds wonderful.”

 

Kenna smiled in response, and stood to leave. “Perfect. I’ll have a look in the kitchens.” With that, she also took her exit.

 

“Lola, do you remember where that book was that we were discussing?” Greer furrowed her brow, trying to conjure up its whereabouts in her mind.

 

“Ummmm…”

 

Greer’s eyes widened suddenly. “I think it’s still in the garden from yesterday! Out on the benches by the west pond, where we took our lunch? Oh, I hope the dew hasn’t damaged it!” Greer went to leave, but turned to face Mary before ducking out the door. “Feel better soon! I’ll be back as soon as I can, and if there’s anything else you can think of before I return, just send word.” With a smile and a nod from her queen, Greer was also on her way.

 

The room was suddenly quite quiet.

 

Lola sauntered back towards the edge of Mary’s cot, and took a seat in the chair placed there, fanning her skirts out in a dramatic flourish.

 

“Well, if you weren’t worn out when we came in, I’m sure you are now. I feel as though I am being remiss in my duties - perhaps I should also go madly dashing off for something? We never did pin down if you wanted soup or rolls…”

 

“Even if I had decided, I doubt anyone would have heard me.” Mary looked to Lola with a teasing glint in her eye.

 

Lola grimaced. “I do apologize for all that – it’s just, when I came in and told them you’d fallen, everyone kind of panicked. Before I knew it, we were all barreling down the hall, the three of them running away with ideas of you mortally wounded, myself running just to catch up and trying to calm them down. I’m sorry – that wasn’t very fair of us.”

 

Mary tilted her head, and reached for Lola’s hand. “I appreciate the concern, but honestly, I’m ok. Nostradamus just recommends that I take it easy for a few days.”

Lola sighed visibly. “I’m so glad to hear that. Leaving you there on the side of the road…”

 

“I won’t hear of it, Lola. You have nothing to be sorry about. I was the one who fell from my horse. It’s not as if you tripped me.”

 

“Yes, but I instigated the race. It was foolish – and reckless.”

 

“Lola, it was fun. Well, until the last bit, anyway. Still! So many aspects of our lives are stuffy and formal, gallivanting around the country adds some much needed freedom to the day. A chance to let our hair down, to relax-“

 

“To fall off horses?” Lola shot her a wry glance.

 

“Yes, I suppose even that sometimes. But please know, I do not fault you for this in any way. I appreciate you riding off to get help. You were my knight in shining armor.”

 

“Not that I was needed for that though, right? What are the chances of Bash coming across that tiny section of road right when you needed him? He is a _true_ knight in shining armor.” Lola leaned in, smiling away, but slowed when she noticed Mary fidget and look away.

 

“Oh come now, Mary. Noticing someone who is kind and heroic hurts no one.”

 

Mary removed her hand from Lola, and began fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. “I suppose not.”

 

“He’s a fine man, Bash is – even if he does have a slight propensity for toying with the ladies at court. His looks certainly don’t hurt. Pity he’s a bastard, or I might try and woo him myself.”

 

A deep, male voice spoke up from behind Lola. “Who are you calling a bastard?”

 

Lola almost jumped out of her seat.

 

“Oh! Bash, I didn’t hear you come in! Please tell me you didn’t hear much – not that there was much to hear of course, we were just mentioning the events of the day, and how lucky it was you came by when you did, which we thank you for of course. Rescuing Mary and all. I felt terrible leaving her alone, but she wasn’t alone of course, you were there, well, you came, you weren’t there when I left, but you brought her back. I couldn’t get her up onto my horse, but obviously you could. It’s a good thing you’re stronger than I am….and, yes. Ummm, wow. I’m suddenly feeling warm. Shall I go? Soup. Yes. Soup sounds good. Mary, I’ll fetch you some soup and bring it back, ok?”

 

Lola had blushed a deep shade of pink by this point, and was kicking herself for rambling on as long as she had. She shot Mary daggers with her eyes for not warning her of Bash’s presence, then stood quickly and nearly knocked over the chair.

 

Bash chuckled, and steadied the poor piece of furniture. “Now Lola, you know Mary doesn’t like soup – but I hear some fresh lamb is being cooked down in the kitchen, perhaps bring up some of that?” His eyes twinkled with teasing, and he winked at Mary.

 

Lola blushed further. “I… does everyone know about your dislike of soup except me?” She turned and queried Mary, a lost look on her face.

 

“Lola, Bash is just playing with you. Soup is fine.” She sent a soothing look towards her friend, who slumped her shoulders slightly in relief. “Bash, shame on you. Poor Lola’s going to dissolve into a pile of nerves, being teased on top of today’s events.”

 

Bash turned to Lola, and swept himself into a slight bow. “I apologize deeply, my lady. Far be it from me to tease a woman who has only just now deemed me to be both, what was it? Kind and heroic?” He peeked up at her, and smirked.

 

Lola felt mortified. “Oh forget it.” Bash chuckled, and rose to standing again. Lola huffed with exasperation. “There is no way I can take that back, so let’s just pretend it was never said, shall we?” Lola turned to Mary once more, and patted her on the arm. “Feel better soon. I’ll be back up with soup as soon as I persuade one of the cooks to make some.”

 

“Thank you, Lola. You are truly too kind.”

 

Lola stood, and moved past Bash on her path to the hallway.

 

“And you!” She pointed her finger in mock annoyance at Bash, who put on his best feigned-remorse expression. “If you repeat any of this to anyone…”

 

“My lips are sealed. “ Bash nodded his head.

 

“Good.” Lola smoothed her dress, then picked up her skirts slightly and made her way to the door. “Mary, I will return presently. “

 

With that, she left.

 

Bash wandered slowly across the once again quiet room, and lowered himself into the chair just now vacated by Lola. Mary pondered in frustration how it was possible to make a rumpled tunic look so pleasing to the eye before turning away. Other than removing his jacket, it seemed that Bash had not changed since returning home this morning. _He spurned my advances. Keeping up this thinking will do me no good._

 

Bash’s voice drew her from her train of thought. “I’m glad you’re not badly injured.”

 

Mary gazed up at him tenderly. “Thank you. With a little rest, I should be up and around in a day or two.”

 

“Is it alright that I’m here? I know you’ve been through much today, and you must be tired – especially after all your visitors.”

 

Mary’s jaw dropped slightly. “Just how long were you standing outside that door?”

 

She was rewarded by the warm sound of Bash’s laughter. “Long enough to hear each and every one of your ladies fuss over you like an old mother hen. I don’t blame Nostradamus for taking his leave.”

 

Mary did her best to scowl at him. “Shame on you, Sebastian De Poitiers, eavesdropping!”

 

Bash countered by mimicking her frown, followed by that impish grin he was so famous for. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he continued teasing. “I would have had to have been deaf not to overhear all their goings-on.  Are you sure that they are all ladies? I could swear they might be geese.“

 

“Bash!” Mary swatted at his arm.

 

“Or perhaps they are gulls! They certainly flew in and back out again fast enough to be.”

 

The next look Mary sent his direction sobered Bash up a bit. “I’m sorry Mary, I shouldn’t jest about your friends that way. They care about you – it is very warming to see.”

 

“I am very lucky to have them. I feel bad that they are running all over though – I am about as comfortable as one could expect me to be given the circumstances, and If Nostradamus wasn’t so overcautious, I would be back in my room right now reading or something similar.”

 

Bash picked up Mary’s hand and stroked his thumbs over her wrist before planting a kiss on her knuckles. After lowering their hands back to his lap, he resumed running his thumb absent-mindedly over the back of her palm. Mary felt her stomach jump a bit, but was determined to focus.

 

“You are quite remarkable, I will admit. But just this once, indulge us into letting us coddle you like a mere human being, at least for today.” He grinned down at her through a piece of his bang that had fallen forward. “Gives us something to do.”

 

Bash then leaned down to the floor, and retrieved one of the flowers that had been dropped by Ailee earlier. He pulled off the broken part of the stem, then tucked the blossom behind Mary’s ear.

 

Mary blushed a little, but raised her head in the controlled way she often did. “I just don’t want them going out of their way. I know they have plenty to occupy themselves with besides dropping in here every few hours.”

 

Bash sat up a bit, his face going serious. “Speaking of visitors – has a particular brother of mine been in to see you yet?”

 

_No, and I don’t expect he will be – He’s probably sequestered in some room somewhere with Olivia, happy that I’m tied up and unable to bother him._

“Hmm?” Bash looked at her quizzically. Apparently she hadn’t kept her face as blank as she had thought.

 

“Francis. Was he here?”  Bash was quickly moving into protective bear mode. For some strange reason, Mary felt comforted by it.

 

“He has not – I think he had council meetings today. He’s probably tied up, but I’m sure he’ll be by later.” Mary tried to keep her tone judgment free.

 

Bash muttered under his voice for a minute. Mary only caught snips, but she definitely heard the phrase “ _That ass”_ being parried around.

 

“Bash, it’s really not that big of a deal. He’ll come around when he’s ready.” She reached up to stroke a hand along his face, attempting to smooth some of the worry wrinkles that were creasing into his forehead. Bash grasped her hand in both his own.

 

“When he’s ready? That’s not good enough. You are hurt, he should be here. He is your fiancé, and he has a duty to you – no, not even a duty. He should be here because it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“No one can force him.”

 

Bash softened his face when he saw the sad resignation on Mary’s.

 

“He’s hurting you Mary. I hate watching him treat you like this.” The tenderness in Bash’s gaze made Mary want to cry.

 

_I already know everything you’re telling me, Bash. Hearing you say it out loud doesn’t make it any easier to digest. You’re right. Not talking with Francis hurts more than these bruises ever could – and I hate myself for that._

“You’ve gone quiet. Have I said something I shouldn’t have?”

 

_If only Francis could be so attentive._

“No, Bash. You have merely spoken the truth. But as Francis outranks both of us at court, there really is nothing to be done.”

 

“Francis does not outrank you, Mary. You are a queen. He is still just the dauphin.”

 

“I may be a queen, but I am still just a woman.”

 

Bash suddenly got very quiet, but his voice was anything but tender. His words were abrasive enough to sharpen steel. “If anyone ever tries to relegate you to ‘ _just_ ’ a woman in my presence, I swear to all that is holy, someone will need to keep me from giving them a good strong hit straight to the nose.”

 

Mary smiled tiredly. “Your chivalry is appreciated Bash, but please don’t go making enemies on my account.”

 

“No, I mean it Mary.” Bash’s tone was fervent. “Any one who underestimates you or tries to degrade you by calling you ‘just a woman’ is someone I will gladly take on as an enemy. You have more backbone, more commanding a presence than most men I know. There is nothing ‘just’ about you.”

 

Mary had nothing to reply to that. Bash’s words felt strange for a moment, until she realized that this was probably the first time someone had not confirmed her ideas that her sex was some sort of hurdle, some set-back, that needed to be overcome. It was disconcerting, but felt oddly right. If only everyone else afforded her the same openness of mind.

 

Nostradamus chose that moment to come back into the room. Bash had discretely dropped her hand before he was in view of them.

 

“More visitors, Mary? You really should be getting some rest, or it will take you longer to heal.”

 

“I promise I’m not overdoing it. Bash is merely keeping me company.”

 

Bash flashed an innocent smile.

 

“Yes, well. That is very kind of you Bash. Mary, I have retrieved the serum I was looking for. It will relieve some of the pain from your knee, but it has the side effect of making you quite groggy. Perhaps it would be best if you brought your visit to a close soon?”

 

“I meant no trouble, Nostradamus. I was just heading out.” Bash rose graciously from the chair, then turned his gaze back to Mary. The palpable intimacy that had been in the air only moments before was gone, replaced by an almost professional decorum – or at the very least polite but distant mood.

 

“Thank you for coming by, Bash.” Mary tried to take a page from his book, but despite all her practice with emotion schooling, was not quite as successful.

 

“It was my pleasure, Mary. I merely needed to see if you were ok.” He sent her a brief but warm smile before turning to Nostradamus. “I leave her in your capable hands, sir. Don’t let her get away with trying to do too much – she’s stubborn, this one.”

 

Nostradamus raised a corner of his mouth, about as much smile as one could get from him. “I shall do my best.”

 

Bash tipped his head, walked to the entranceway, and closed the door behind him. Once standing in the hall, he leaned back against the flagstone, his heart beating almost angrily from the news – however unsurprising – about his brother.

 

_I don’t care if it’s viewed as proper or not, I NEED to have a talk with him._

 

Bash marched away, determined to track down Francis and give him a piece of his mind, even if he had to pull him out of a council meeting to do so.

 

 

*************************************************************


	4. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for how long it's taken to get this chapter up. In my defence, there were final exams, apartment moving, and graduation in-between the last chapter and this one.

 

 ***************************************

 

It had been two days, and the only interaction Bash had managed to obtain from his brother involved Francis being evasive, flippant, and strangely rude. Bash was not swayed. If anything, the recent hurdle of Francis’ unwillingness to talk had not put him off, but instead strengthened his resolve to have his say. Francis was being childish and hurtful. Though it technically lay in the jurisdiction of their father to straighten Francis out when it came to matters of behavior and how a future king should act, Bash doubted that Henry would see anything awry in his heir’s treatment of Mary. The two of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth when it came to mistreating those that they cared about. Hence, it fell instead to Bash, as no one else would have the desire or the courage to stand up to the second highest ranked individual at court.

 

Thus, here he was, outside of his brother’s chambers, hoping to catch him before he went out riding. Bash leaned against the stone, bringing one leg up against the wall, and waited.

 

It was there that Francis nearly knocked him over as he rushed out of his room five minutes later.

 

Bash wasted no time. He jumped forward and began following his brother down the corridor, nearly needing to jog to keep up.

 

“Brother, I wish to have a word with you.”

 

“Bash, this really isn’t the best time.” Francis refused to look back.

 

“No, it would seem nothing is the appropriate time for you recently. This _really_ needs discussion. Stop avoiding me.”

 

Francis stopped abruptly and wailed around. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I don’t wish to speak with you?”

 

“You’ve made that pretty clear, dear brother. But just because you don’t wish to talk about something doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t need discussing!”

 

“Hmm, and you seem to think I’m avoiding something. That I don’t wish to bring it up, that I’m keeping secrets perhaps?”

 

Bash was thrown. _I was under the impression that Francis was unaware of his actions towards Mary, where on earth is this going?_

“What do you mean by keeping secrets?” Bash questioned the dauphin.

 

“Well, seeing as you’re an expert in that area, perhaps I should defer to your own definition of what it means to keep something from someone. Are you keeping secrets from me, brother?”  


Bash’s stomach sank. _The kisses between him and Mary. Somehow he knew. Was he sure, or did he only suspect?_ This conversation was not going in the direction Bash wanted it to be going. Whilst, in Francis’ eyes, Bash knew he wasn’t in the clear, the fact remained that no matter what grievances they may have against each other as brothers, Francis was still treating Mary terribly.

 

“Francis, I don’t know what you mean – but I’m trying to talk to you about how you’ve been treating Mary. This is NOT how a future king should be treating his fiancée.”

 

“And of course you would know all about how to treat Mary.” The daggers in Francis voice when he spoke this were almost palpable. Bash tried to ignore them.

 

“Francis, please. You’ve got to stop pushing her away!”

 

Francis stepped forward, close enough to Bash that he could feel the small mist of spit –product of over enunciation - when Francis once again began to speak.

 

“Be careful where you tread, Sebastian. You should remain aware that I am not a wise person to cross.”

 

Bash remained silent, instead gazing at the floor.

 

Francis finally softened slightly, sadness creeping in where anger had been only moments before. “What has happened to us, brother?”

 

Guilt churned inside of Bash. _You have no right, no claim to Mary. Whatever you try to convince yourself._

 

Just then, a guard came into the hall.

 

“Your grace, your father wishes to know what is detaining you from practice- he was ready for you over ten minutes ago.”

 

The moment fell to the floor like glass, and the wall between them went up again almost immediately.

 

Francis raised his chin, and gave his brother a curt nod. “Do not forget what I have said.”

 

With that, the younger brother strode off, leaving Bash standing by himself on the flagstones. Feeling somewhat frustrated, Bash headed down the hall in the opposite direction, aiming for a door out to the back forest. Hopefully a walk would clear his head and let him figure out what the next step here was.

 

 

 *****************************************************

  

 

Bash had spent the greater part of the afternoon in the woods, wandering around and keeping an eye out for any signs of trespassing thieves or malicious pagan worship. Having been quite relieved to find neither, his mind was no longer occupied enough to distract him from his noisy stomach. With the heated discussion he had gone through with Francis that morning, lunch seemed to have slipped his mind, and he was now being internally yelled at for it.

 

_Perhaps if I cut through the gardens, one of the servants will let me in through the kitchens and I can sneak something before dinner._

As Bash approached the high hedges, he heard voices on the other side.

 

“Here is the wine you requested, your grace. Is there anything else I can retrieve for you?”

 

“No, thank you Sarah. That will be all.”

 

Bash was suddenly overcome with nerves. He had seen Mary just yesterday, and she was still being ordered to rest and allow her knee to heal from the fall. He had no idea she was up and around so soon, or out in the garden, or he might have gone in a different way.

 

_Perhaps I should avoid her for a while?_

_Why on earth would you do that? You have done nothing wrong. She is a close friend, and you are concerned for her well being. You enjoy her company, as she enjoys yours. Staying away right now would only add to the pain she is going through at court._

_I promised myself I would give Francis his space to mend the differences between himself and Mary….._

_There is no reason why Mary must be forced out of a friend just because her fiancé is too immature to deal with a little jealousy._

“Damn it, fine.” Bash spoke aloud, hoping to quiet the internal debate going on within himself. He continued to mutter. “Mary can make her own decision about whether or not she wants me around.”

 

Bash smoothed down his jacket, straightened his belt, and walked through the archway into the main garden. Forcing himself to walk collectedly at that moment was one of the most difficult things Bash could remember ever having to do.

 

Mary didn’t notice him right away. She lounged on one of the stone benches placed along the rosepaths, book in hand.

 

Bash’s stomach swooped at the sight of her. Her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders, pulled loosely away from her face with two silver pins. The light blue of her dress contrasted her china complexion, the small folds of lace that trimmed the sleeves daintily framing her slender wrists. Normally, Mary wore ornate jewelry to distinguish her position at court, but Bash was pleased to see she had forgone the heavy necklaces and earrings for a small, simple pendant.

 

Still, Mary could have been sitting cross-legged on the ground with mud on her face and a potato sack as a dress, and Bash would still have judged her to be the most beautiful woman in France.

 

_I am a lovestruck school-child._

He had not realized that his treck along the paths had slowed almost to a stop until Mary called to him.

 

“Bash! I did not realize you were here. You should have called out, you startled me!”

 

The smile on her face as she gazed at him caused Bash to entirely forget his hunger – there were too many butterflies in his stomach for that. Mary sat up straight, shifting herself to one side of the bench and gesturing for Bash to join her. He smiled back and obliged.

 

“It is good to see you up and around. I assume this means Nostradamus gave you the all-clear to walk on that leg again?” His eyes twinkled mischievously, for if the blush creeping up Mary’s neck was any indication, such permission had not yet been granted.

 

“Now before I hear any judgment being passed, may I remind you of the stomach wound you received just earlier this year? The one that should have kept you in bed for at least a couple weeks, yet you were out fighting battles before the week was out?”

 

Bash smiled. “Yes, I suppose that is true. But may I also point out that it was your murderous Portuguese beau that warranted such actions? If it wasn’t for him, I can guarantee that I would have been an exemplary patient.”

 

Mary raised her eyebrows, but couldn’t keep from grinning. “Is that so! So, essentially your misconduct as a patient, in your mind, was _my_ fault?”

 

“I stated no such thing. How were you to know that the bastard son of the king of Portugal was a conniving, manipulative, power hungry man? The entire court was charmed by him, even Catherine.”

 

Mary reached over and clasped her hands around Bash’s, which was until this moment resting on his knee, staying out of trouble. Lightning coursed through his skin at the contact.

 

“Not everyone was charmed.” Mary held his gaze with her own, as if to say _“you weren’t. You never liked him.”_ Bash turned his eyes away, and glanced into his lap to where their hands were joined, absentmindedly stroking her hand with his thumb.

 Mary continued. “I think Catherine preferred the courtiers and dance music he brought with him much more than she liked him personally. Also, I believe she would like anyone who would stand in the way of me marrying her son.”

 

Bash laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

 

Mary sobered the conversation a little. “Why didn’t you trust him, Bash? What about Tomas rubbed you the wrong way?”

 

“I’d like to be able to say that I had a bad feeling about him from the start, but I suppose that would be a lie.”

 

“Then what was it?”

 

Bash returned his gaze once more to Mary. “I couldn’t stand the idea of him taking you away.”

 

The two sat there for a moment, Mary with such compassion, and Bash with so much longing in his eyes he thought he might burst. He pulled back the seriousness.

 

“Of course, when we discovered he was abusive and traitorous, and only using you to gain legitimacy through the Pope, I didn’t really need to use my emotions as an excuse to dislike him anymore. Being the reason I was stabbed didn’t really help matters much either.”

 

Mary giggled a bit at Bash’s dry tone, but immediately schooled her features. “I’m sorry for laughing – you had us all very worried with that injury. Does it still give you trouble?”

 

“Rarely. If I’ve been out riding for too long, or swing a sword particularly vehemently, it sometimes twinges. Other than that, I would say it’s mostly healed.”

 

Mary squeezed his hand, looking up at him again with those deep brown eyes. Bash lost track of the conversation, instead distracted of the way the sun caught in her irisis, making her eyes not merely brown, but a thousand shades of dancing gold.

 

“Bash, have you spoken to Francis recently? I fear he has been avoiding me.” Bash pulled back to listen to Mary. “He came by briefly the day after I fell, but seemed utterly distracted and indifferent. Not that I should care or be surprised at this point.”

 

“Mary, he knows.” Bash kept his voice completely deadpan.

 

“Knows?”  Mary’s voice became anxious.

 

“About us at the festival, or at least suspects. I fear our actions have lead him to treat you even more coldly than he had before.”

 

“But, how? How on earth could he have found out, unless he was spying on us?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe he saw us at the lake, or a servant did. Perhaps someone overheard us in the hallway later that evening.” Bash continued to watch Mary’s face for some sign that she was panicking over this news, but instead saw her expression steel.

 

“Good. Let him know that he’s not the only one capable of making decisions for himself.”

 

“If my brother expects to retain the high ground after running around with Olivia, I’m afraid his head is more addled than we suspected.”

 

“That’s the frustrating aspect though – as a man, no one bats an eye if he sleeps with other women. He’s free to take his wife, and any number of mistresses he chooses.”

 

Bash pivoted to face Mary more squarely. “That doesn’t excuse his behavior! Just because society allows him to run around with whoever he chooses, it doesn’t justify him being inconsiderate and selfish about it!”

 

Mary’s eyes went soft, and she lifted a hand up to stroke Bash’s cheek.

 

“You’re such a contradition to me, Bash. You insist beyond everyone else’s doubts that I can take care of myself, yet you are always there to jump in and defend me.”

 

Bash leaned his cheek into her touch.

 

“Just because someone _can_ take care of themselves doesn’t mean they should be forced to all the time.”

 

Mary suddenly became very aware of how close Bash was to her. The slight stubble under her palm, the searing green eyes, the rough and musky smell- woodsman through and through. She stroked his cheek a few more times, tracing his jawline under her fingers. It seemed as though some thread was drawing them together, unseen, but too strong to resist. Mary leaned in slightly, tipping her chin up as she led Bash’s face down to meet hers. The kiss was worlds away from the ones they had shared not a week before – this time, they were kissing each other instead of a distraction, an idea. There was no urgency here, just wordless communication. The thread looped tighter and tighter, Mary could feel it pulling at her heart and mind, beginning to sing.

 

This just felt so right.

 

The moment only lasted a few seconds. Mary’s eyes were still closed when Bash pulled back and cast his eyes down. He stood quickly, brushing his hands on the seat of his pants, as if to wipe off the remnants of their contact.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that Mary, I’m sorry.”

 

He began to move towards the garden exit. Panicking, Mary stood and began to follow him.

 

“Bash! Where are you going?”

 

The confusion in her voice was too much, and Bash turned around to face her, making sure to keep a good few strides between them.

 

“You are engaged to my brother. I will not make court any more hostile for you by dragging you down this road with me.”

 

Mary ground her heel into the dirt, bringing out the power stance. “What ever happened to ‘being my own person, a queen in my own right’, with the ability to make my own decisions?”

 

Bash brought a hand to his forehead in frustration. “That’s the point, Mary. I need to leave you free to make your own decisions without me clouding up your judgment.”

 

“But Bash…”

 

“Don’t you see Mary? I’m being just as bad as Francis! I’m pushing my own agenda on you, and not giving you any chance to make up your own mind!” Bash lowered his voice, but kept eye contact. “I care about you too much to take away any more of your autonomy.” He paused, and Mary shifted on her feet, her eyebrows taking a more passive stance on her face. Bash decided to throw caution to the wind.

 

“I love you too much to do that to you.”

 

He tried to pour as much of that love into his eyes as possible, and then made himself walk away.

 

 

************************************************************************* 

 

  

_There is absolutely no way in hell I am letting him walk away after dropping that on me._

Mary marched herself just as fast as she could down the corridor after Bash, a good many steps behind, as she had returned to the bench to retrieve her book before taking off after him.

 

How stupid she had been to miss seeing that Bash was so emotionally invested. Mary could kick herself for missing it. Bash had been one of her closest friends since returning to court, her true ally against all the ups and downs of life under scrutiny. If he also happened to make her stomach sink into her toes then jump back up and lodge in her throat, well, why dwell on it?

 

 _Ahh, there he is._ Bash was just turning a corner ahead, moving towards the center of the castle. Mary jogged slightly to catch up.

 

“Bash, please wait!” Mary turned the corner at a near run….

 

….. and almost ran headlong into Francis.

 

“Is there a race going on I was unaware of?” The chill in the dauphin’s voice was unmistakable. Mary looked behind the prince to see Bash standing quietly off to the side of the hall.

 

“I really shouldn’t be surprised at finding you together. Come to think of it, there haven’t been many times in the last few weeks when you _weren’t_ together.”

 

“Francis, you’re being unfair.”

 

Francis raised his voice. “Am I? Am I truly being unfair, brother? Is it really a matter of being over concerned on my part when literally the only times I am not finding you alone, you are in each other’s company?”

 

Mary spoke up. “Francis, can we please discuss this elsewhere?” The doors to the council room were only a few strides behind them.

 

“Afraid someone will overhear? You didn’t seem all that concerned about onlookers when you had your little rendezvous down by the lake earlier. I saw you together!”

 

“Francis…” Bash tried to bring the conversation volume down.

 

“No! I will not be made to look a fool! You lied to me, you both did.” Francis turned first to Mary. “You, by omission.” He then turned to Bash. “But you. You lied straight to my face. I’m not sure which is worse, to be betrayed by my fiancée or my brother.”

 

Bash began to grow agitated. “I’ve had enough with your high-handed comments! You _know_ brother that you have been shoving Mary aside in favor of Olivia.”

 

“That doesn’t give you permission to step in and do as you see fit! Though you may not agree, nothing I have done is endangering the alliance between Scotland and France right now. I cannot say the same for you two.”

 

Mary and Bash fell quiet.

 

“You cannot be seen together anymore, I forbid it. Despite all you have done, I care about you both too much to watch what will happen if you are caught. You think the treaty will just happily dissolve if you two decide to run off together? I’ll have you know, I just got out of a meeting with father. The English queen is taking a turn for the worse again, and much of the council, including the king, is getting anxious for us to make good on our arrangement to be married.”

 

Francis turned to Mary again. “While you obviously don’t see the merit in our relationship, we really don’t have much choice about it. Though, if you keep on like this, you may ruin it for us – so that even if we wanted to marry, we would be unable to! Is that what you are attempting to do?” Francis began to break down. “Do you really despise me so much?”

 

“Francis, no! But neither will I stand by and watch you with Olivia, and say nothing!”

 

“But you didn’t say anything. You had Bash say it for you.”

 

Mary raised her voice again. “Bash spoke up because every time I tried to, you silenced me. You don’t want to hear it, Francis. You don’t want to hear that you are being selfish and inconsiderate.”

 

“I am being neither, Mary. You insist on seeing things between Olivia and I that are not there.”

 

“Do you or do you not have feelings for her?” The distress was beginning to show on Mary’s face.

 

Francis’ eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. “That really isn’t your concern. However, fine. Obviously asking you to dote on me is a childish and selfish concern-“ Francis made mocking gestures as he spoke this – “so let us be free of that worry. I release you to be with someone else, as you obviously have no interest in forging a relationship with me.” Francis almost choked up, but continued to speak. “You are free to seek out companionship elsewhere. I will not judge.”

 

He paused, but turned back to his brother. “But do not ask me to stand by and let you be with Bash. I cannot do that. It is too much of a betrayal.”

 

Mary didn’t have the heart to continue with her barrage of protests when Francis was so visibly upset. Both stood with tears in their eyes, as Bash awkwardly looked on.

 

_Francis, do you not realize how much I still care for you? After all you’ve done? After casting me aside, making our distance out to be entirely my own fault?_

The palpable anger seeming to have ebbed away, and Francis seemed to have spent his words. Mary raised her arm after him half heartedly as he began to make his exit, attempting to draw some part of him back to her. He did not turn. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was slipping away from her like smoke.

 

 

**************************************************** 

  

 

Head pounding with blood, Francis marched his way through the castle and up into the South Wing corridor.

 

_I thought that once this ~thing~ was out in the open, I would feel better. They know that I know – perhaps it will be enough to put a stop to whatever is going on between them._

His heart was still beating far too fast, and Francis realized he was probably scaring the servants. He forced himself to slow down and breathe.

 

 _She must know how foolish this is! Even if she has decided she doesn’t love me anymore –_ His heart stung at that thought.

 

He muttered to the empty corridor. “You know what, I’m sick of this. I am the dauphin of France, and I’m tired of trying to care about someone who keeps throwing it back in my face.”

 

Though he said it out loud, his heart was still not convinced. The depth of betrayal he felt right now was too much to bear.

 

Anger, sorrow, and the overwhelming need to do _something_ coursed through him like molten metal. He abruptly turned on his heel, and switched directions, heading instead to a hallway that contained guest chambers, one he had not been down in a while. Mind still spinning and wanting to drown out the internal arguing going on in head, Francis waited all of 0.002 seconds before knocking frantically on the wooden door. He danced from foot to foot and shook his curls out of his face, then forced himself to stand still.

 

Olivia opened.

 

“Francis.” The blonde’s facial expression was both shocked and pleased.

 

The prince launched towards her, claiming her mouth with his own right there in the doorway. When he realized that Olivia was not returning the action, Francis pulled back, anxiety on his face. “Does your offer still stand?”

 

She blinked at him. Once his intentions were finally processed, Olivia took it in stride. She pushed open the door slightly, and stepped backwards. “I meant all that I have said. You may have me, Francis, any way that you want.”

 

Francis was in the room and on her mouth again within moments.

 

She giggled at him, and attempted to hold him away from her face for just a second. “Francis, darling, hadn’t we better shut the door?” Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

 

The prince blushed, stuttering out a few words that formed no coherent sentence, before turning to close and lock the door, ensuring their privacy.

 

When finished, he returned to her side, taking her hand. His breath came in heavy draws, his eyes closing briefly. Olivia could not tell if he was attempting to temper his actions, or steel himself into moving forward. Her gaze raked over his mussed up golden hair, down to his mussed embroidered black doublet. Heat pooled in her stomach – the prince had no clue the effect he could have.

 

Olivia reached a hand out to gently tip Francis chin towards her face. Her eyes found his with the softest gaze she could muster.

 

“Why are you here, Francis? What caused you to change your mind?”

 

Francis merely shook his head. Olivia persisted.

 

“Please Francis, you know how I want you, but I cannot take the thought of you changing your mind again and running from me.”

 

Again, Francis did not answer, but the question spurred him into action and he nudged himself once more into Olivia’s personal space. Hands grasped at her waist, then moving to her hair. He took it in handfuls, moving it away from her neck, using the newly opened pathway to place possessive kisses along her collarbone. Francis thumbed the small space under her jaw, drawing circles there and coaxing her head to turn. As his mouth moved up her neck, Olivia gasped, bringing her own hands up to Francis face.

 

_Soft, willing skin, sweet under my lips. See how she responds to you?_

_But it is not she whom you most care for._

Olivia moved them back, pulling against the bedpost. She guided Francis’ hands to the laces of her dress, coaxing him to tug the strings free.

 

_She is giving herself willingly, and you would be lying to say that Olivia brought no rise to you. Why should you keep yourself locked away in misery and celibacy for someone who so obviously gives no thought to doing the same?_

The thought of Mary and Bash wrapped together like this brought anger to the forefront of his mind, and as though trying to prove something, Francis pulled loose the laces of Olivia’s dress and frantically began pulling it free from her body. She helped him lift the skirts, one shoe coming loose in the process. Francis dropped manic kisses to her neck, then tore at the neckline to gain access to Olivia’s heaving breasts. They rose pert and pale before his hands, nipples peaked to the chilly air of the room. Francis traced the freckles leading down to them with his tongue, the pattern they formed a distinctive memory in his mind from when they had last lain together, well over two years ago.

 

Olivia let out a moan of pleasure as Francis took a breast in his palm, caressing it and taking in its softness.

 

“Oh Francis, how I have missed this, missed you. Please, don’t stay away from me any longer…”

 

Francis abruptly moved his tongue to her mouth again, effectively silencing her with a kiss.

 

“Let’s not speak.” He stepped back from her just enough to remove his shirt without hitting her in the process, then pulled her back towards him. The rest of their clothes fell in a messy sequence of tugging and tripping as they simultaneously tried to move backwards onto the bed.

 

_What would Mary think if she could see you?_

Francis kissed Olivia harder, dragging his hands over her hips to the small of her waist and up to the swell of her breasts, aiming to cause Olivia to moan again and distract him.

 

The soft skin drew his mind again to Mary. Though they had never done much more than kiss, his mind was drawn sometimes, late at night, into wondering how she would feel – if her breasts would be just as pale and delicate as the rest of her features. Heat built in him at the thought. His hands reached down to remove Olivia’s half rumpled shift, currently curled around her waist where it had become snagged earlier. She lifted her hips to help him, and Francis shucked the last of his undergarments as well.

 

Whilst positioned so low on the bed, he drew his face up Olivia’s thigh, breathing air sensually across her skin. He reached the top of her legs, to where they joined her body with delicate creases of skin and that now damp-with-arousal patch of golden curls, and put his nose to it.

 

_How would Mary’s raven hair compare to Olivia’s golden?_

Olivia threaded her long fingers through Francis’ hair and tried to guide him back up to her face.

 

“Later. Right now, I wish to see your face.”

 

Rising on his elbows above her, he came level to her again. She caught his glances with her own, and as she studied his face, Francis felt nausea rising within him. He felt like a bug trapped under a glass when he looked at her like this, as though he was drowning from being pinned under her gaze.

 

_God, what am I doing?_

Olivia reached for his face again, and brought her mouth to his ear.

 

“Make love to me, Francis. Please.”

 

She kissed him again, closing her own eyes, and reaching down to where his uncertain erection leaned against her stomach. He hissed when her hand made contact, and tried to force himself to focus on the physical feelings instead of the thoughts causing his head to spin too fast.

 

With renewed fervor put towards their actions, Francis began to position himself above her, teasing her of actions to come before finally sliding inside. She moaned and threw her head back, grasping Francis on his lower back and encouraging him to move.

 

Though the dance was familiar to them, try as he might, Francis could not put Mary from his mind. His hands and body knew it was Olivia beneath him, her hair that distinctive smell of sage and lemons, but if Francis kept his eyes closed under the guise of passion, he could almost trick his mind into believing it was Mary he held in his arms.

 

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End file.
